


If Things Were Guiltless

by gwennolmarie



Series: Lifeline, Lifeblood [3]
Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Accidental Stimulation, Age Difference, Alternate Universe - Vampire, Biting, Blood Drinking, Coming In Pants, Desperation, Grinding, Guilt, Hair-pulling, Hand Jobs, Light Angst, M/M, Painplay, Pre-Canon, Regret, Spooning, Vampires, a lil, is okay tho, just a little bit of - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-21
Updated: 2019-01-21
Packaged: 2019-10-13 20:22:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,967
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17494709
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gwennolmarie/pseuds/gwennolmarie
Summary: Arthur tries to convince himself that he isn’t eager.That he’s only agreeing for John’s sake and not because he wants to feel that intensity again.He fails to fool himself.He pulls John’s hips against his own and tilts his head to the side.





	If Things Were Guiltless

Sometimes fear overtakes common sense.

Even though Arthur assured him, told him right to his face that it was _okay_.

John put it off.

Again.

When the hunger pangs started he just pressed in on his stomach with his fist until the rumbling quieted.

When the dizziness started he claimed he hurt his back, to give him an excuse for standing up so slowly.

When Arthur got too close John felt his hands twitching.

Aching to reach out for the older man.

The human part of his brain screamed at him.

He and Arthur needed to talk, but John could hardly stand to be within reaching distance of the older man.

He ached in other ways too.

Ached at night with the memories of the way Arthur sounded.

The way the man felt under him.

John glances over to Arthur, where the older man is in the saddle of Bo’.

Feels his stomach clench at the glimpses of the side of Arthur’s neck from behind.

Old Boy must feel his rider’s anxiety as he nickers softly under John.

John hushes him, soothingly combing his fingers through the horse’s mane.

Arthur calls ahead to Dutch and Hosea.

“Y’all think we should stop for the night?” Arthur asks.

“No,” Hosea calls back, “Unless you need to. How is your hip?”

John had almost forgotten.

Arthur had fallen pretty nastily off Bo’, when the mare had spooked the other day.

“Dammit, Hosea, I told you I was fine,” Arthur complains.

“Son, why don’t you and John stop for the night, we’ll ride ahead and you two can meet up with us tomorrow,” Dutch says, “I wanted to take a detour to talk to an old friend, anyhow.”

“Sure,” Arthur relents and glances back to John.

John nods then looks down at the horn of his saddle.

“Meet us in the saloon, then, around midday,” Hosea says.

Arthur and John split off into the woods, looking for a big enough place to set up their tent.

There had been storm clouds in the sky since mid-afternoon.

Dutch had insisted they ride out anyway, the deal he’d made with a feller a few towns over was time-sensitive.

“How’s about over there?” John asks softly, pointing to a rock wall that’d guard them against the easterly winds.

“I ain’t seein’ any loose stones,” Arthur said, squinting at the spot John had indicated, “Looks fine.”

They pitch the tent, laying out their bedrolls with only inches between them.

As Arthur is settling in John moves to take a position for his watch, outside the tent.

Arthur stops him with a hand on the back of John’s waistband.

“I don’t want you gettin’ all wet and cold, stay in here,” Arthur murmurs.

“I need to take watch…” John says hesitantly, trying to ignore the heat at the base of his spine.

This is the first time they’ve touched since…

“Nah, you’ll be able to hear anythin’ from inside the tent,” Arthur grumbles and tugs at John’s pants until the younger sits back down, “Just stay in here.”

“Okay,” John says quietly.

John tries to settle on his back next to Arthur, their shoulders almost touching.

They stare at the top of the tent.

“So, how you…” Arthur clears his throat noisily, “How you doin’?”

“Fine,” John says, voice thin in a way that betrays him.

He hears Arthur sigh heavily.

The younger can’t stop his shoulders from shrugging up towards his ears.

John crosses his arms defensively.

He can hear Arthur.

Breathing softly, tapping his fingers on his blanket where it’s half thrown off the older man’s body.

His heartbeat.

John swallows the rising anxiety and looks over to Arthur only to find the older man studying him with a frown.

“It ain’t been as long as the last time,” Arthur says.

“This… This is a little shorter than when it started, last time,” John admits quietly.

“Jesus,” Arthur shuts his eyes for a moment, reopening them to focus on John, concern clear in his eyes, “When… What’s it feel like?”

“Like,” John’s voice cracks and he looks away, “Like starvin’... Worse.”

“Jesus,” Arthur repeats quietly.

They’re quiet for a moment.

A tense silence filling the small space.

Arthur sits up and turns, so he’s leaning back against the side of the tent against the smooth rock wall.

“Come ‘ere,” Arthur says.

Far gentler than the last two times.

John doesn’t move for maybe a minute.

Arthur waits patiently.

The younger man finally sits up and moves onto all-fours to crawl into Arthur’s lap.

Straddling the older man’s upper thighs.

Arthur’s arms wrap around the back of his waist and holds him.

John feels his chest tighten.

The same aimless guilt building in him.

Berating him for getting them into this situation in the first place.

If only he’d been thinking.

“It’s fine, John,” Arthur murmurs.

“Is it?” John asks, a little hysterically, “Is it really? After last time?”

Arthur doesn’t answer, looking away, over the younger man’s shoulder.

“We can’t…” John ducks his head slightly, stares at the buttons on the older man’s shirt, “We can’t pretend _that_ didn’t happen.”

“You can pretend anythin’, if you try hard ‘nough,” Arthur grumbles.

“Fine,” John bites out, “Then I don’t _want_ to, Arthur. I don’t want to pretend.”

He glances up in time to see Arthur swallow thickly.

Meet the younger man’s eyes again.

“I don’t want to,” John repeats.

Arthur closes his eyes, and John watches as the older man’s demeanor changes.

The man squares his shoulders, his hands slide down John’s side to the younger’s hips and he tilts his head to expose his neck.

The opposite side from before.

John closes his own eyes.

Lets his new-found instincts guide him.

Listening instead of looking.

He presses his lips to the loudest part of Arthur’s neck and feels his fangs lower.

He gently scraps them over the sensitive skin, feels Arthur tense and squeeze the younger’s hips.

John sinks his teeth in.

Arthur grunts, quietly.

Biting his lip so hard he feels when his teeth break through the thin skin.

Lets his lips part and feels the blood run out the side of his mouth.

Tastes it coating his tongue when he licks the shining red away.

Wonders what his blood tastes like to John.

Feels the fangs sink deeper.

Feels the muscles in his arms and back tense against the shudder that runs through him.

“Shit,” He knows he hisses before groaning softly.

Feels the soft vibrations of John making some kind of sound against his neck.

He’s not sure if it’s words or…

A sound like his own.

The thought makes his stomach tense.

The reminder that John enjoys this just as much as him, just because of Arthur’s sounds.

He wishes he could be quiet.

Be stoic and bear this with grace.

Not guilt.

John’s hands wedge between Arthur’s arms and the older man’s torso, to squeeze Arthur’s waist.

Arthur feels the burning in his gut intensify when John uses the grip to pull himself closer.

Arthur’s fingers curl into the material of John’s pants.

Straining the seams when he feels the younger man’s arousal against his own.

“Shit,” He whispers.

The fangs sink just a little deeper.

John rocks his hips forward at the same time.

“Shit,” Arthur gasps, a little louder.

Feels some of the threads in John’s pants popping under the tension.

He lets go.

Feels John pause, against him.

Feels the worry radiating from the younger man.

Tries to shove down the guilt as he slides his hands to the younger’s ass.

Pulling John even closer.

Feels their cocks rub against each other through the layers of cloth.

Feels John gasp against his neck.

The fangs retract and sound returns to him with a soft whine from John.

The younger’s hips twitch against him as John starts to feed.

He can hear the little sounds getting caught in the younger’s throat.

Arthur’s hands clench around John’s ass and try to tug him closer.

“Fuck,” John murmurs against his neck.

Sucks a little harder with the aim to make a mark that lasts longer than the holes where his fangs pierce.

Arthur huffs a quiet laugh and digs his fingers into the thin flesh of John’s backside.

Hears and feels John whimper against him.

“You…” Arthur murmurs, haltingly, “We shouldn’t.”

John pulls back, blood on his lips.

Arthur watches as the younger licks it away.

Has to tense to stop himself from rocking up against the younger man.

He sees heat in John’s eyes.

Brighter than the heat he feels when John’s fangs sink into him.

Burning.

Burning.

Burning.

“Please,” John whispers, desperately, “Please, Arthur, _please_?”

Arthur lets his head fall back against the canvas, against the rock wall.

“We shouldn’t,” Arthur repeats.

“Why?” John asks quietly.

“Why?” Arthur scoffs, “You’re barely an adult.”

“Did that stop you? When you were my age?”

“When I was your age I wasn’t goin’ after men a decade older than me.”

Arthur regrets saying that when he sees John recoil, sees the younger’s eyes grow sad and look away, to the side.

“We’ve done worse,” John whispers.

Arthur sighs and closes his eyes.

Shoves down the guilt that’s still trying to crawl its way up his throat.

“Do you need more?” Arthur asks quietly.

“I…” John hesitates, “I got a theory.”

“Okay,” Arthur hesitates.

“I’m wondering if the more… The more I drink, the longer I can go,” John says, just as hesitant.

“We can… Shit, we can try,” Arthur says softly and forgets where his hands are, in the moment, when he tries to squeeze reassuringly.

John tenses hard against him, ducks his head further.

Looks terribly guilty when his hips twitch against Arthur in response.

“Shit,” Arthur grunts for what seems like the millionth time tonight.

“Hah,” John mutters, “Yeah.”

Arthur shifts himself under John, widening his legs and forcing the younger man’s thighs a little further apart.

John glances up at him warily.

Then glances down to the traces of blood on Arthur’s lips.

Arthur knows it.

Knows exactly what the younger is looking at.

He tries to lick his lips clean.

John lets out a shaky breath and meets blue eyes.

“You can… You can feed ‘gain,” Arthur murmurs, “If you think it’ll help.”

Arthur tries to convince himself that he isn’t eager.

That he’s only agreeing for John’s sake and not because he wants to feel that intensity again.

He fails to fool himself.

He pulls John’s hips against his own and tilts his head to the side.

John makes a choked, desperate sound, glancing between Arthur’s neck and the older man’s eyes.

“Go ‘head,” Arthur murmurs.

“God,” John whispers and leans in, tilts his hips forward as he kisses Arthur’s neck, higher up towards his jaw.

An actual kiss, this time, not just the necessary brush of lips.

Soft and open-mouthed.

John cocks his head a little further and bites lightly, with his fangs.

Not quite breaking skin.

Feels Arthur’s chest expand against his hands with a big breath in.

He sinks the needle-like weapons in and squeezes Arthur’s waist.

Feels the older man’s heavy exhale rustle his hair.

Arthur’s hands move up his back and untuck his shirt.

His hands are warm.

Arthur, himself, is warm.

John relishes in the touch as Arthur’s hands explore the younger man’s back under John’s shirt.

He drives his fangs the rest of the way in and hears Arthur’s bitten off groan.

Feels it when the older man gives in.

Relaxing and rolling his hips up into John.

John rocks down in response.

Crying out quietly when Arthur grabs his ass and yanks him closer.

Presses them together tightly.

John retracts his fangs and lets the warm, metallic liquid fill his mouth.

Arthur leans into the feeling.

John lingers, this time.

Drags his tongue over the feeding holes to clean away the blood and soothe the burn.

Arthur turns into him, muffles a groan in John’s hair and rocks their hips together.

“Fuck,” John hisses and buries his face in Arthur’s collar.

“Shh,” Arthur soothes and grinds their confined cocks together a little harder.

“Fuck,” John repeats, a little more strained.

“I got you, John,” Arthur murmurs.

“Arthur,” John whispers, “Please?”

“What?” Arthur whispers back, lips moving against John’s hair.

“Please… Shit, please touch me?”

Arthur doesn’t respond, just rocks them together slowly.

“Please, Arthur… I keep,” John cuts himself off, muffles a frustrated sound in the crook of Arthur’s neck.

“You keep what?” Arthur asks hesitantly.

“When I can’t sleep… I don’t even need to dream, all I think ‘bout is you,” John admits, embarrassment coloring his cheeks where the older man can’t see.

“Shit,” Arthur mutters.

“Yeah,” John says miserably.

“Jesus,” Arthur grunts, “You’re gonna kill me.”

John just curls in closer.

Arthur grumbles for a minute then brings his hands around to open John’s pants and drawers.

Pulling the younger man’s cock out with warm hands.

John gasps sharply into his neck, hands grabbing tightly at Arthur’s waist.

“I got you,” Arthur murmurs again and bites down on his tongue when he feels the slick of John’s pre-come.

“Shit,” The older man grunts, “You weren’t kiddin’.”

“Not,” John whimpers as Arthur rubs his palm over the head of the younger man’s cock to collect the wetness, “Not ‘bout this. Not ‘bout wantin’ you.”

Arthur brings his other hand up to thread through John’s hair, gently tugging at the perpetually-tangled strands as he combs through them.

John hisses and his hips jerk up into Arthur’s hand.

Moves his hands to curl over Arthur’s shoulders.

The older man pauses, then tightens his grip in John’s hair and pulls the younger’s head back.

Has John’s neck stretched to its limit and the younger staring wide-eyed at the top of the tent.

“You like that?” Arthur asks curiously.

“Yeah,” John says quietly.

Cheeks a little brighter pink.

“Hm,” Arthur studies the younger then leans in as he strokes John between their bellies.

Arthur presses his lips against the front of John’s throat in a mimicry of John’s gentleness when feeding.

Feels John’s Adam’s Apple bobbing against his cheek.

He bites.

Just hard enough to break blood vessels in the soft flesh and leave a mark.

John cries out, an aching, needful sound.

Arthur bites a little harder then moves over a couple inches.

Bites again.

Does this, repeatedly, while tilting John’s head in whatever direction pleases him and stroking the younger man’s cock slowly.

Does this while John’s hips start twitching up into his grip.

Does this while the younger man starts gasping and grinding down against Arthur’s hardness.

Arthur groans softly when John finds the perfect rhythm, rolling down before pitching his hips up into the clutch of Arthur’s fist.

Arthur lets go of the younger’s hair to grab John’s hip.

Forgets about his guilt as he grinds up against the smaller body.

Forgets it as John whines and cries and gasps the older man’s name.

“Fuck, Arthur, _please_?” John sobs.

Arthur takes a minute to realize.

He’s being asked _permission_.

John is asking if it’s _okay_.

If the younger is _allowed_ to come.

“Shit, yeah, Darlin', go ‘head,” Arthur murmurs into the younger’s neck.

John tilts his head forward and pushes his jaw into Arthur’s temple as he whimpers.

Cock jerking and spilling in Arthur’s hand.

“Jesus,” Arthur mutters, smears the come down John’s length then moves to grab the younger’s other hip.

John’s breathing is shaky and stuttering as Arthur rocks up against him, pulls the younger’s hips down in time with each thrust up.

John wonders what it’d be like, to have Arthur inside him.

“Arthur,” John murmurs.

“Yeah?” Arthur rasps.

“Want you to fuck me, next time,” John admits, quietly.

Arthur inhales sharply and thrusts up once, twice, harder than before.

Wraps his arms around John and pulls the younger man closer.

Moves his head to press his cheek into the side of John’s neck.

“Shit,” Arthur grunts and John feels the little, desperate thrusts up against his ass.

Can’t stop the quiet, wanton sound that escapes him.

Arthur tries to even out his breathing as he comes down.

Huffs a laugh of disbelief, self-deprecating, against John’s collarbone.

“Are we…” John’s hands start to tremble, “Should… Should I?”

“What?” Arthur mutters, angry and tired.

John hears it.

Thinks he…

Knows he shouldn’t have pushed the older man.

John pulls back carefully.

Arthur lets him go.

John crawls to the corner of the tent, rummaging through their saddlebags for changes of clothes.

Reaches back to set the pile on Arthur’s bedroll.

Turns away and struggles into his own, kneeling and laying back, unable to stand in the tent.

Unwilling to go and get soaked in the rain as it patters against the canvas above them.

He hears Arthur sigh behind him then move and start changing.

John lays down in his bedroll and pulls his blanket up to his chin.

Facing away.

Feels Arthur settle behind him.

“I’m sorry,” John murmurs.

“Ain’t your fault,” Arthur says, sounding exhausted.

“Feels like it,” John says.

Arthur moves behind him and an arm curls over John’s waist, pulling the younger man back-first against Arthur’s chest.

“It _ain’t_ ,” Arthur says firmly.

John swallows loudly then settles back into the older man.

Hears thunder rolling in the distance.

“Okay,” John relents.

“Good,” Arthur grumbles, presses his forehead between John’s shoulder blades, “Wake me up if you hear somethin’.”

“Okay,” John repeats, “G’night.”

“G’night.”

\--

John’s never been fond of thunderstorms.

The dull flashes of light that seep through the waxed canvas.

The thunder grows closer, cracking loudly overhead.

John flinches and it jostles Arthur awake.

The older man shushes him sleepily, rubs a flat palm side-to-side over John’s stomach.

John doesn’t feel so scared, then, in the safety of Arthur’s warmth. 

**Author's Note:**

> what is UP lads i love this series so fucking much
> 
> tumblr @gwennolmarie or @providentialeyes


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